


The Garden of Live Flowers

by seren_ccd



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 10:03:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2146614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seren_ccd/pseuds/seren_ccd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been several weeks since she’d found poor Murray Hawes and despite wanting to, Liv hadn’t really expected to see the tall detective sergeant again, but there he was, strolling along the path.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Garden of Live Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve finally started the great marathon watching of Inspector Lewis and I’ve just finished season six and I adored the episode where Hathaway bowed to Liv the botanist. As the season progressed, I could really see him attempting to make contact with her again, just to see the aftermath, if nothing else. Plus, I like Liv and wanted to see if I could write her. This can be read as purely friendship!fic. Spoilers for episodes: The Soul of Genius and Generation of Vipers.
> 
> I don’t own any of these characters, nor any of the quotes used. The title comes from Lewis Carroll’s Through the Looking Glass, because I couldn’t help myself.

The browning clump of _Menyanthes trifoliate_ came up out of the water with a nice squelch and Liv rocked back on her feet with a sigh. She tossed the clump of ‘bogbeans’ towards the edge of the pond and made her way slowly out of the water. She’d just set foot on the hard ground when she spotted him.

It had been several weeks since she’d found poor Murray Hawes and Professor Wright’s arrest and despite wanting to, Liv hadn’t really expected to see the tall detective sergeant again, but there he was, strolling along the path. His eyes stayed fixed on the ground, rising every now and then to look sharply at the surrounding area. When he spotted her, he changed his direction and walked towards her.

If she was truly honest with herself, she’d hoped he’d ring or stop by after everything had calmed down, but then figured that perhaps that wasn’t how things were done. Not to mention how she’d royally mucked things up by covering for Helena about Murray’s journal. 

The very cynical part of her (a voice that sounded remarkably like her older brother, computer programmer extraordinaire) said that perhaps his previous interest hadn’t actually been interest and had been more along the lines of getting her to tell him things, but…

He’d looked determined before.

Now, he looked a bit lost.

Well, that’s why she worked there, wasn’t it? she told herself. To make sure people don’t get lost in the gardens?

Besides, she thought, as she moved the clump of _Menyanthes trifoliate_ into the bin nearby, she liked the sound of his voice. And he knew Latin.

There wasn’t much she wouldn’t do for a bloke that knew his Latin.

“Naturally you turn up after I’ve been mucking out the bog garden,” Liv said as she watched him head straight towards her. “I smell awful, I’ll warn you.”

“If it’s any comfort, I’m sure I’ve smelt worse,” he called out.

“That’d be reassuring if I didn’t know what you do for a living,” she said. “I caught you on telly the other night.”

He winced and chuckled. “Did you?”

“Quite the right hook you’ve got there, sergeant,” she said. “And your inspector? Play rugby, does he? Thought you two were the brains of the outfit, not the brawn.”

“No, no, we can supply the brawn as well,” he said solemnly. 

“Clearly,” she said smiling. He smiled back and she felt a little shiver of giddiness trip through her stomach. “So, what brings you back to the gardens?” She froze. “Oh, God. Wait. Has something happened? What’s happened?”

“No, nothing,” he said shaking his head and stepping forward. “It’s… No, I just needed some air and thought a walk through the gardens might do me some good.” He looked across the pond and squinted. “I end up seeing so many places through a rather grim lens. It’s nice to come back and see them as they should be seen.”

Liv nodded. “I’ve been visiting the woods where I found Murray. It’s…hard not to get chills when I see the treeline and my stomach keeps turning.”

“Rather understandable,” he said. He frowned. “Don’t force yourself to get better. It doesn’t work.”

“Voice of experience?” she asked, and he gave her a slightly crooked smile that she returned. “Well, I’m not forcing it. But I don’t want to ignore it either. It was something that happened and I want to deal with it.”

“Admirable outlook,” he said nodding. He looked away again out over the pond.

“Would you like to see my favourite place here?” she asked hesitantly as she took off her gloves and dropping them into her gardener’s basket.

“I would,” he said.

“This way, then,” she said bending down to pick up her basket. 

He beat her to it and hefted it up with a frown. “Dare I ask what’s in here?”

“Everything a modern girl needs,” she said as she led the way down the gravel path. “Gloves, seed packets, secateurs, hedge clippers, three different types of spades...”

“I believe I’d hate to see your handbag,” he said lightly.

She laughed out loud. “You really would. I’m fairly sure I’ve got a spare spade in there, too.”

He smiled briefly but kept his eyes on the ground in front of him. Liv suddenly realised that the man standing before her, this terribly tall, austere man was painfully shy and quite possibly contained several deep-rooted issues and thoughts. Talking to him could either be extremely fun or a potential minefield.

Well, she wasn’t a botanist for nothing. She’d never minded getting her hands dirty and besides, she liked roots.

“There’s something else, though, isn’t there?” she asked. “You’re not just getting some air, are you?”

“Am I that transparent?” he asked.

She held up her fingers and measured a small inch of space between them. “Little bit?”

He chuckled, then looked away. “I… We just had this case and someone… I suppose I wanted to see if you were all right.”

“Oh,” she said getting the distinct impression there was more to it than just that. “I’m all right, I suppose.”

“Really?”

“Well,” she took a deep breath, “I get the occasional nightmare. And I have no idea what’s going to happen to my thesis now that Helena’s, well, not around. Plus everyone keeps looking at me like I know what I’m doing or that since I knew Helena, I must have known what she was up to and God, actually, I’m a little bit of a mess.

"I mean, logically, I know that I couldn't have known what Helena was doing, but," she sighed. "I knew she was fragile, but murder? I really did not see that coming."

"Most people don't," he said. "Not even the murderers themselves. I've met so many that apart from the one incident would have never been identified with such a crime. They often have, when you look at it from their point of view, actual reasons for what they do."

"It's still murder, though," Liv said quietly.

"Yes," he said nodding. "It's still murder." He shifted his grip on her basket. "You mentioned the future of your thesis? Is this likely to have an impact on it?"

"Well, I'm looking for another advisor," she said trailing a hand across the tops of some high-growing grasses. "There's been talk of my having to completely relook at my research, especially if it was conducted under her supervision because her expertise may now be called into question."

"That can't be easy to deal with," he commented.

"It's made for some lovely conversations with some of my mates in the hard sciences," she said rolling her eyes. “They already consider botany the lowest of the low. Now, they just look at me with pity mixed with smugness. Especially the physicists.” 

“As if the theoretical ones have any room to comment,” he said smirking.

“Too right,” she said laughing. “They just don’t understand why I don’t want to beat my head against the wall doing hard maths.” She glanced at him. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course,” he said looking down at her, a hint of a smile around his mouth.

“I hate maths,” she mock-whispered. “I can do enough of it to get by, but I can’t bloody stand it.”

“I fully understand,” he said. He frowned. “I do want to say, I’m sorry you’re having to go through all this, though.”

“Well, what is it they say? You can only control your own actions, not the actions of others?” she said. Then she shrugged. “I’ll manage. My thesis is strong and should hopefully stand up to scrutiny in spite of all of this. I hope.”

She really hoped.

They rounded a corner and Liv smiled. “And here we are,” she said.

“The Medicinal Gardens,” he read off the plaque. “As opposed to the Doctrine of the Signatures?”

“Can I tell you another secret?” she asked.

“Please do,” he said, that same smile still hovering around his mouth.

She leaned up on her tiptoes and whispered, “Sometimes I prefer the medicinal plants to the esoteric ones. But don’t let the historians know.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” he said in a low voice.

“I’m not in botany for the science of it,” she said as she guided them to a bench located just on the edge of the gardens near the small crossroads near the family beds. Liv could just see the lower gardens located back the way they came. “I like the way the plants can complement each other. It’s really obvious in some of the historic garden maps.”

She sat down and watched as he set her basket down gently and took a seat next to her. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees and watched the people as they walked passed them.

“I like seeing the garden as a whole,” she said quietly, looking out over the paths. “You can see everything from here.”

“It’s remarkably peaceful for being right in the centre of it all,” he said, his own voice going low.

“That’s what drew me to gardens in the first place,” she said. “I love the idea of these places smack in the middle of buildings that a filled with flowers and green, growing things.”

“Let me guess, _The Secret Garden_ was one of your favourites as a child?” he asked.

“’Was’? Bite your tongue,” she said grinning and smacking his arm with the back of her hand. “I re-read it every winter, thank you very much.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “I apologise.”

“Anyway,” she said still grinning. “I like studying how gardens fit together and interact.” She inhaled deeply. “ _An album is a garden, not for show, Planted, but use; where wholesome herbs should grow._ ” 

“Charles Lamb?” he guessed.

She grinned. "I'm going to stop being impressed by that at some point."

“It’s a lovely spot,” he said, his voice drowned out by a pair of shrieking children running past, their parents close behind. 

“They originally had this part of the gardens closed off,” she said wryly. “It was only for the educated elite. No nannies with prams.”

“Original owners spinning in their graves, are they?” he said watching the children race around the hedges. 

“Most definitely,” she said laughing. The image of Murray’s hand in the dirt made her start and she stopped laughing and looked away, trying to blink the image back.

“Sorry,” he said quietly. “Bad choice of words.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s all right, really.” She looked at him and smiled. “You’re very considerate--, um, do you know, I’m not sure what to call you? Sergeant?”

“James’ll do,” he said chuckling.

“Liv,” she said holding out her hand.

He shook it and she tried not to consider just how long his fingers were, but she wasn’t at all successful. She reluctantly pulled her hand away and he seemed to stretch out his fingers before resting his hand on his leg.

“So, the medicinal garden,” he said gesturing out at the plants. “Do they work better than the Doctrine of Signatures?”

“Oh, yes. Have a burn or abrasion,” she said, pointing, “there’s the aloe. Echinacea over there is good for your immune system. I noticed your inspector got a nice clip to the nose with that drug dealer. He’d probably be right as rain with some mullein plant diffused into his tea.”

“I would like to be there when you suggest that to him,” he said laughing.

“Well, maybe a nice, cold pint is more his speed,” she said.

“It’s certainly more mine,” he said. He frowned. “Is it yours? I mean…would you like to have one? With me? Sometime?”

“If I say ‘yes’, do I get another bow?” she asked archly.

“If it would seal the deal, as it were,” he said wincing slightly.

“Then, yes, I’d love to get a drink,” she said cheerfully.

True to his word, he got to his feet and sure enough, he bowed to her, bending slightly at the waist. 

Liv hopped to her feet and curtsied as gracefully as she could in wellies.

He chuckled and then said, “Shall we agree to never do that again?”

“Yes, of course,” Liv said bursting out laughing. “But I have to say, when you first did it, it was definitely one of the nicer gestures anyone’s ever made to me.”

“So, I didn’t look like a great giant berk when I did it?” he asked.

“Oh, no, you did,” she said grinning. “But, as it turns out, I have a weakness for great giant berks who know their Latin.”

They stood awkwardly for a moment, before Liv sat back down on the bench. James seemed to hesitate and then followed suit, stretching his long legs out in front of him. She caught the smell of cigarettes mixed with sandalwood as his jacket brushed against her upper arm.

“So, what is Liv short for?” he asked.

“It’s not,” she said drily. “It’s the Norwegian version of the name. It means ‘life’ or so mum tells me.”

He glanced around the garden. “Appropriate.”

“Surprisingly, yes,” she said. Murray’s hand flashed in her mind again and she inhaled deeply. “Most of the time.”

“I am sorry about all that,” he said quietly.

“And you really don’t have to apologise,” she said. She took a deep breath and leaned back against the bench. “It’s horrible and terrible but…I may have gotten a new drinking mate out of the whole business?”

She glanced at him and noticed a kind smile spread across his face. “You may have indeed.”

“I should warn you, I can go on and on about landscaping and obscure references to gardens in literature and history,” she said. 

“ _God Almighty first planted a Garden. And indeed it is the purest of human pleasures. It is the greatest refreshment to the spirits of man, without which buildings and palaces are but gross handiworks_ ,” he said leaning back on the bench tilting his face up to the sun, his shoulder brushing against hers once more.

“Francis Bacon. Be still my heart,” she said laughing. “Now, you’re just showing off.”

He laughed and closed his eyes, his face still tilted towards the sun. "That's the last one I know, I'm afraid," he said.

She shrugged and tilted her head back to feel the sun on her own face. "You'll still do."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, before Liv gently pressed her shoulder to his briefly.

A few moments passed and then he returned the pressure.


End file.
